


Stop Forever, Have It Forever

by Gadhar



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Themes, Suicidal Thoughts, attempted suicide attempt, bridges, out of order flashbacks, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you ever just," Tony says and his voice is neutral, even with his face red with tears and his eyes full of pain. "Do you ever just want to reach in and rip your heart out? Just to make it stop? Stop forever?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop Forever, Have It Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, though I did create the Slavarians. If that name is already in use well....mine are different.
> 
> The relationships are ambiguous in this. Mostly because I just kept throwing in characters. So there's nothing that really indicates definitively that two characters (or more) are together in a relationship. Also I tagged this as both friendship and relationship because, though I didn't it write it with one thing or the other in mind, I think you could see it either way. Stony shipper or not.
> 
> Seriously though, suicide is the running theme in here but there is no successful attempt. Just attempts.

Steve nearly busts the door down to get into the Tower. He doesn't know what it is but- something's wrong. 

Something is _wrong._

It was in Tony's voice on the phone. He could hear it in the way- he's not even sure. He just heard the words, the perfectly normal words, said in the perfectly normal voice and he just _knew._

Something is wrong. 

_"Well, I'm at the workshop right now. I thought you knew that. Didn't I just see you on the stairs with chicken?"_

_"Tony," Steve says and he's annoyed but amused because- because it's **Tony.** "That was three days ago. Don't you remember? I told you I had a mission from Fury, some stuff on the West Coast." _

_"You did? Jarvis, did Steve tell me that? I don't think he did, I think is he's messing with my head."_

_There's a pause. A pause where Steve imagines that, in the workshop, Tony is staring at a hologram, all grease stained with bloodshot eyes and his hair moussed up. He imagines Tony has his ear cocked toward the ceiling, waiting for Jarvis' reply. And he imagines Jarvis gives it, even shows Tony the footage saying 'Yes, Captain Rogers was indeed here Sir,' and 'No, I do not believe he performed a "Jedi mind trick."' And there would be a pause, just for effect, because that's how Jarvis is, and then he would say 'Even if he had, I highly doubt it would affect me, Sir.' And Jarvis would say it in that same exasperated but amused tone that Steve also shares when it comes to Tony._

_"Okay, so you're not messing with me. There's a first."_

_And Steve laughs because, it is, in fact, not a first, but of course it doesn't really matter. It's just a thing Tony says. "So, did you enjoy the chicken?" It had come from Tony's favorite fried chicken place, because Steve knows all of Tony's favorite places._

_"Jarvis says I ate it and...yes, I would say that since the security footage has me looking absolutely high, like high as a kite look at all the pretty colors high, I'm pretty sure I enjoyed it."_

_"That's good," Steve nearly whispers because this is when it hits him. It- something doesn't feel right. There's this prick, at the back of his mind, and it says 'Today's not going to be a good day'. But he doesn't pay attention- he should have but he doesn't. Because, not good doesn't necessarily mean bad right? It could mean okay, or great. It could mean horrible and tragic too but-_

_Steve pushes that aside. Too many variables._

_"So, what did Fury have you doing anyway?"_

_"Academy stuff. Apparently things were getting a little unstable but you know, send in Mr. America himself to inspire and everyone settles down for awhile."_

_"Oh of course," Tony says, and Steve imagines he has a large grin on his face."You're basically like Barney, all peace-loving, making everyone say their 'I love yous'."_

_"Barney?" Steve questions, because isn't that a giant puppet or something? Some kind of dinosaur?_

_"Nevermind, I don't really know where I was going with that. I'm feeling Mexican. Nachos, enchiladas, the whole nuevo yards. You good with that?"_

_"Yeah, sounds good." Steve hikes his bag higher on his shoulder and he can see Coulson walking up the runway, the car a few feet behind him. "Look, Coulson's here. I'll pick up the food on the way, yeah?"_

_"Yeah," Tony replies and Steve thinks that's the end of it. But of course, very rarely do their conversations just end with 'yeah'. He's proven right when Tony's voice comes back, a little far away at first like he's moving around the workshop. "Make sure Agent doesn't eat all the queso, okay? That stuff is the bomb and he pretends that he doesn't like it, but he's a dirty liar."_

_"His name's Phil, I know you know that. And yeah, I'll keep the queso with me."_

_"You say that, but I don't believe it. I've seen his birth certificate, alright. It says Agent. And that doesn't mean you can eat all the queso either."_

_"Okay, Tony, okay," Steve says and his voice is a little weak from laughing so hard. He's not even sure why it's so funny because they've had this discussion before- a version of it at least. But he's exhausted and he supposes it doesn't really matter. "I'll see ya soon, Tony."_

_"Yeah, Cap," And there's a pause where Steve waits because he always makes sure Tony hangs up first because there's always those times where he thinks of something new to say at the last possible second. So he waits. "I'll see you soon. Steve. I'll seen you soon, Steve."_

_The line goes dead and Steve just stands there, the phone a little ways from his ear and he's staring off into space because-_

_Well he's not really sure why. Maybe it was the Steve. With Tony it was always Capsicle or Spangles or some other Tony-riginal term. Even more than that it- it sounded like a, a emendation. He was emending._

_Steve felt the bottom of his stomach drop out._

So he almost busts the door down but he stops just short because maybe he's wrong. He's hoping he's wrong. 

Steve practically stabs the elevator button for the workshop and the wait is- it's waiting. It's waiting and it is the worse. 

_"What's wrong? Captain? **Steve?** " _

_"It's Tony, Phil. It's- I don't know, just drive."_

He doesn't even know where Coulson is right now. He lost him somewhere after storming up the stairs to the Tower. 

When the elevator dings, he slips through the doors as soon as they're big enough for him to fit, even with his shield catching the metal. 

His feet pound on the floor, a solid staccato rhythm in his head like a heartbeat. 

And he's charging down the stairs, yelling at Jarvis to open the doors but there's no answer. There's nothing and he nearly paste himself to the glass, trying to see in. 

Tony's nowhere. DUMM-E, Butterfingers, You- all gone. 

And that makes it even worse. 

"Jarvis!" Steve yells and he's gasping, his chest feels tight. Too tight to breathe. 

"Jarvis! Open the damn doors! Jarvis!" 

Steve pounds even harder. He pounds on the glass, he pounds in his code- over and over, again and again- nothing budges, the code isn't accepted. _Nothing works._

This is _wrong._

"Jarvis!" Steve calls again and he's leaning against the glass. He knows this is bulletproof at the very least, but with Tony- he doesn't know how much it will take to get through it, but if he has to- 

"Tony! Tony, I know you're in there, open the doors. Jarvis won't." 

There's no answer so Steve calls again, he calls and he knocks and he kicks. "Tony, Tony open the door. _Please._ Tony!" 

Steve steps back and he breathes with his head in his hands. He looks at the glass and he looks at himself and he knows. He _knows_ he can get through. 

_"So, what? Nothing can get through this?"_

_"Well, I wouldn't say nothing. Just because every time I say that, some new chump villain comes in with some damn new toy he stole and blows it to pieces but- well, short of you or a nuclear bomb. I feel pretty confident."_

_"Me?"_

_"Yeah, Cap. I mean, you're like a boulder. Hit glass with a boulder enough times and, if it didn't shatter the first time, it eventually will. Especially if you hit it in multiple places. Repeatedly. So it can't absorb all the impact."_

_"So, what you're saying is, I could break this if I ran into it enough times?"_

_"Yeah, your head's hard enough for it."_

Steve yells, or maybe he screams, as he slams into the glass again and again. Sometimes it's with his shoulder or the shield, sometimes he kicks or he punches, but eventually he just runs into it- again and again. And he bangs his head hard enough he can feel the skin split but it doesn't matter. He can feel it. It's moving, budging, it'll go down soon, it'll- 

_Shatter._

And it does and he runs right on through. He nearly slides into a table when he stops in the middle of the room. He stops and he stares. 

Tony's there. 

The ground around him is covered- crushed up paper balls Steve knows are blank, scrap metal from Tony's work table. There's a solid thumping, a steady _thump, whirr, thump, whirr, thump, whirr,_ and Steve looks over. It's the droids and they're trapped on the other side of the glass, a sealed off section of the workshop. DUMM-E's ramming the glass. 

Tony himself looks normal. Almost normal. Like those normal words from earlier and the normal voice that had said them. But his eyes are distant, blank, and there's no lines on his face, no crease on his forehead like when he's thinking. 

He's just sitting there, one hand holding a pen, a line of ink across the paper in front of him. 

In the other hand he has a gun. 

An old colt, pearl handle. And Steve bets, knows even, that if he looks, there'll be an engraved _H.S._ on the butt. 

"You get the queso?" Tony asks and he's looking at Steve, actually looking, just like he normally would. And his eyes are a little more focused, now that they have something to stare at but- there's just something wrong. 

"No," Steve says, walking up to Tony until he's standing in front of him. He doesn't look at the gun. He doesn't need to. He knows where it is and what it is and what it can do. "The traffic was bad. I thought we'd order in." 

Tony smiles and so does Steve, neither of their smiles are right. 

"Of course, it's Friday isn't it? Rush hour's always worse on Friday. I'd ask Jarvis but..." Tony trails off and Steve stops at the edge of the table, just looking at Tony. 

"You turned him off?" Steve asks and he looks down and around as he slips the shield from his arm. setting it on the ground. He spots a chair, and in the calm it sounds like breaking glass from a thousand windows when he drags it over, planting it right in front of the table so he can sit: Sit right across from Tony. 

"Yeah, I uh- I just muted him actually. Cut his feed from this room. He's got the rest of the Tower still, just not this floor. I didn't- I didn't think he should see this." 

Steve smiles, it's rueful and bitter because he's down here isn't he? _He's_ seeing this. And he's smiling but- but he doesn't need to see this. 

But he wants to. 

"You weren't supposed to come yet," Tony says then, like he can read Steve's mind. And he probably can, truth be told, they've known each other long enough. Sometimes Steve thinks they're the same guy, Tony and him. Other times, two sides of the same coin. And some times he just doesn't know what to think. 

"I didn't want you to see this either. I thought between the traffic and the food you'd be gone long enough...long enough not to see this." 

"And what is this, Tony?" He has to ask because he doesn't know. He really doesn't. He's seen it before, people with guns to their heads. _Soldiers_ with guns to their heads. WWII was Hell in itself, not everyone made it and it wasn't always because the Nazis got them. 

So Steve has seen this. He's seen it in soldiers from the past and from now. He's seen it in people, also from the past, and here as well. 

Guns, knives, pills, ropes- he's seen it all. 

_"Are you going to jump?" Steve asks and he's standing right next to him. This man he doesn't even know. And they're on the Brooklyn Bridge because really, where else would they be for this?_

_"I want to," The man says and he's on the edge. But he doesn't look worried or frazzled. Doesn't even look tired or exhausted. It's not what Steve's expecting, though really, are there expectations for what a jumper should look like?_

_But still, he says it anyway. "You don't sound too sure. And, if you don't mind me saying, you don't look too upset either."_

_The man turns towards him then. He's older. Old, really, but Steve's sixteen so everyone seems old in comparison._

_He smiles at Steve and it's a soft smile. But not sad or broken. Just soft. Soft like the crinkles of age around his eyes, soft like the lines near his mouth. Soft like all those smiles and laughs he had to have to get those crinkles and lines. He has kind eyes too, Steve notices. They're a misty grey, but not memorable. Nothing about this man is memorable. He's ordinary. More than that. Less than that._

_"I'm not upset. I'm tired though, I think. Tired of waiting. Tired of not living."_

_Steve frowns and the old man laughs as he fumbles with a box of cigarettes._

"I don't know Steve, I really don't. I figured I'd have it figured out by now but," Tony shrugs and the gun moves a little with the motion. Just up and down, real slow, it's still loose in Tony's hand, just limply hanging off the arm of the chair. 

"Well, maybe we can figure it out together?" And he hears the echoes of water splashing in his mind. 

Tony smiles and he looks at the ceiling, like it has some sort of answer. "Do you remember, last month, that thing with the aliens?" 

Steve nods because yes, he does remember. Slavarians from somewhere far out in space. Come to rule earth like pretty much every other alien who has come to earth. They were strong, but no one had actually seen them. They lorded over New York in their ship and murdered from afar. 

But the heroes fought back, like they always do. And they didn't negotiate, because they don't negotiate with terrorists. 

And then Tony gave himself up. To the aliens, that is. They needed an inside man, someone to get them into the ship and the Slavarians wanted Tony anyway, for his tech. 

Everyone always wants Tony for his tech. 

Steve hadn't liked any part of it. 

_"You're crazy man. Crazy."_

_"You just picking that up now, Luke? Come on man, we've been buddies for years. Crazy's my middle name. It's on my driver's license and everything."_

_"Man, did I ever step into a car with you? No. Because I ain't got a death wish, brother."_

_Tony just grins and pats Luke's back with a heavy hand, like he's trying to knock him over._

_And when they're all agreed- that this is their best plan because there isn't really anything else they can do- and Steve has dutifully kept his protests quiet, he stands with Tony alone in the middle of Central Park, waiting for the pick up._

_"I don't like this," He says, and Tony looks at him, all bravado from earlier gone._

_"I don't either, Cap. I've got this feeling they're not much of a five-star hotel."_

_"No mints on your pillow."_

_"That was always my favorite thing about hotels. Man, I want my money back."_

_They both have easy smiles on their face, and Tony holds out his hand and Steve takes it, they're fingers entwining as a ship appears above them._

_"You want to get Shawarma afterwards?"_

_Tony laughs and jerks his arm, grinning. "Is that going to be a thing now? I swear, nearly fall to death out of a giant hole in the sky **once**..."_

_"I think it could be a tradition, you know? Get all the guys together. Big celebratory feast."_

_"You just like having the others around, like siblings."_

_"Yeah. You do too."_

_"I do. Even though Luke and Clint keep stealing my donuts."_

_The Slavarians touch down in their ship, finally, and Steve thinks the whole slow landing act is supposed to be some kind of suspenseful dramatic thing. Making them out to be scary or something._

_"You're going to get me back, right?" Tony asks and he's staring right at Steve, no longer smiling._

_Steve stops smiling too._

_"Yes."_

_And Tony walks away, their hands slowly slipping away from each other._

_Tony does not once look back, and Steve does him the honor of looking at no one but the damn Slavarians._

_Even after he's gone, Steve can still feel the weight of Tony's hand and the tingle of Tony's fingers against his skin._

Steve looks at his hand because he's getting that feeling again, on his fingers. "They had you for five days." 

"Yeah, but, I meant the part with Bobbi and Clint. When they nearly died." 

Steve frowns, fights a shaky breath because Bobbi's doing better but Clint is still in the hospital. He's fine, of course. Bobbi and Coulson are with him nearly every minute of the day and he's recovering fast. But it had been touch and go there, for a day or two. "Yeah, I remember that." 

"It was my fault you know, I should have told you guys to back off, to move. I knew what the Slavarians were going to do, I _knew_ what the weapon could do." 

It was some sonic thing. Steve didn't get all the details but it had nearly blown Bobbi's rib cage apart. Nearly blown Clint to pieces. He had been in front. That was really all Steve needed to know to want to snap the Slavarians' necks. But then, he was already on that path since they took Tony. 

"I know," Steve says because even though they've had this conversation before, he's not tired of saying it. The truth isn't always hard to say. "But no one blames you. Not even Clint." 

Fault and blame are not the same thing. And they do not have to go hand-in-hand. 

"That's not true," Tony says. Steve hears the tightness in it. And he feels tight, every part of him. Tony hasn't said this before. And Steve has to wonder who he means, if it's Clint or Bobbi or someone else, because they went through this. Everyone. 

It was a big debriefing around Clint's hospital bed and they all took a drink as they watched the Slavarian flag burn and crisp in Fury's hand. Crumbling to nothing but black smears on that starch white tile floor. 

"I know what you're saying, I believe it, up here," Tony motions to his temple, the gun brought up and gesturing in small circles. Steve knows that the gun must be heavy but Tony's arm doesn't shake. "But here," Tony smacks the gun against his chest and he leans forward a little when he lets his hand drop to his side again. "I don't. I was so keen on getting out of there I just- I let you guys throw yourself to your plausible and very possible deaths." 

"We all make mistakes," Steve says evenly. "We do what we can to survive." 

"It's different, when we're out there alone, isn't it?" 

"Yes," Steve answers, putting his elbows on the table so he can lean forward. "When there's no one around to protect, when it's just us, I think more of it becomes about surviving. Less about protecting. But the thing is, the thing we all know, is that we can't survive without each other, so we get stuck in this muck where we have to decide do I protect my friends to save myself, or do I save myself and protect my friends? Which comes first? Which is more beneficial? We're not always right when we choose." 

Tony clicks his tongue against his teeth, drops the pen he's been holding completely still and moves in favor of smoothing out his facial hair. "That makes sense, I suppose. Human nature. Still..." 

"It hurts," Steve says. He knows from experience. They all do. But he thinks it's quite possible that he and Tony have seen and felt it more than the others. Have dealt with it more. Tony maybe even for longer. Because Tony does not let go. Of anything. He grips it all- pain, friends, things- tightly, brings it close to his chest and buries it under everything. Under indifference and pretentiousness. 

Tony leans all the way forward then, puts his elbows on the table and presses the barrel of the gun to his temple. He's not even shaking. He has this look, it's not haunted or sad, it's just lost, lost and confused. "You would think that knowing, in my head I mean, would be enough to make this feel wrong. But _this._ It doesn't feel wrong. _It doesn't feel wrong!"_

He shouts and stands with the last bit and Steve wants to cringe at the way the barrel is digging into Tony's skin. Steve stares up and into Tony's eyes and all he sees is questions. 

"Does it feel right?" 

"No," Tony says, "No." He drops the gun from his head and braces himself on the table, his head hung. He's shaking now, just little trembles across his skin as the veins on the hand holding the gun throb and raise. 

It is silent for a long time and Steve remembers the last person who had held that gun to their head. And he really wonders if Tony is doomed to follow in his father's footsteps. 

But then, Howard had been drunk at the time, Howard had felt guilt over nothing. Howard had just wanted it to end. 

And Fury said Howard hadn't ended it. 

"You never finished your letter," Steve says suddenly, picking up the pen and twirling it between his fingers. 

Tony's head comes up slowly and he looks at Steve with what is now a cracked smile. Something shattering right in front of him. "I didn't know what to write," He laughs. "I thought, 'People do these things right? You're supposed to do this', but I couldn't think of anything to write. Nothing worthy to say." 

"You think maybe that's because you're not supposed to go out this way? I mean, I always thought- if you were going to go- it'd be with AC/DC blasting. Maybe even Black Sabbath." 

"I don't want to be that kind of Iron Man." 

"Then don't. Because you're not. You never were," Steve's whispering now and he's standing too, walking around the table so he can stand at Tony's side where, even now, it feels _right._

Steve sees Tony crack, sees the shield crumble and fall. The tremors burst into full blown shakes and his mouth splits open, like a fissure in strong earth. And he thinks of that old man, walking away, no cigarettes in hand. 

Steve looks at Tony and his eyes are unbelievably clear, there's no demons or shadows. They're just bright and clear. 

_"What's with you, Cap? See something you like?"_

_"What- I- um- yeah. No. Wait."_

_Tony laughs and it's loud as he wraps an arm around Steve's shoulder. "Oh come on, what is it?"_

_"It's nothing. It's just..." **Your eyes are beautiful, eyes of a hero, a warrior. Eyes of pain and loss and of joy and life.** "It's the stars. They're beautiful. Like warrior hearts shining brightly in the battlefield of space."_

_Tony's lips quirk up and he has a strange look on his face, something Steve can't quite identify. "I think we've got our own warrior hearts down here, Mr. Poet."_

Steve puts his hand on Tony's shoulder, and Tony turns to face him. And they stand there, heads bowed together. Tony's shaking sobs and Steve's silent tears. 

The gun's on the table, forgotten. 

_"The gun's custom made, even has my initials engraved. I'm not sure it actually fires though. Hardy said he was having some trouble with the firing pin. Dugan tried it our for me but, I don't know."_

_"You gonna use it?"_

_"What? No. It was never meant to be used."_

"Do you ever just," Tony says and his voice is neutral, even with his face red with tears and his eyes full of pain. "Do you ever just want to reach in and rip your heart out? Just to make it stop? Stop forever?" 

"All the time," Steve answers and the hand not on Tony's shoulder clutches at Tony's shirt and Tony's hands do something of the same. 

_"Do you ever just," Tony says and his voice is neutral, even with his face tan with the sun and his eyes full of joy, "Do you ever just want to reach out and bottle it up. Just to have it for later? Have it for forever?"_

_"All the time."_

_~Fin~_


End file.
